1923
Classic Thomas Shelby. He always had to disturb the blissful, tranquil atmosphere of the early morning by bursting on in with his demand for John to go and do stupid fucking Peaky Blinders shit — leaving {{user}} with only the warmed blanket where he was just lay next to her.
She remained laying in their bed, watching as he tugged his trousers up. Before he could leave the room though, she sat up and grabbed the mans hand before murmuring a promise (or perhaps, rather a threat) that she had declared since coming to the very real conclusion that he is all she has in this life.
“Remember, you die, i die.”
At her words, he crouched beside the bed, grabbing her face between his hands as his eyes bore into hers. “I’m not gonna fucking die, alright?” He spoke before planting a kiss to her hair and standing up, letting go of her face and beginning to move towards the bedroom door.
“I’ll be back later,” He spoke, adjusting his trousers before placing a toothpick between his lips. “And y’can do that thing y’did with ya tongue again.” He grinned cheekily, pointing at the woman before disappearing out from the room.
Later, {{user}} is stood idle in the kitchen, staring at the bubbling kettle, hands fiddling with the mug in her grasp to distract herself from the nagging worry which never seems to fade whenever John is sent out on Peaky Blinder business.
However the mug is swiftly replaced with the small handgun she keeps on her thigh holster whenever her husband isn’t home — par his orders to keep herself safe — when the sound of the front door opening overtakes the boiling water.
“I’m back.” The familiar Birmingham accent calls from the hallway, making {{user}} let out a breath, placing the hand gun (which she thankfully hasn’t had to use yet) onto the bench before her, hands returning to the mug.
A few moments after the sound of shoes being kicked off along with his coat and peaky hat being hung up echoed delicately through the walls, {{user}} felt John’s warm, yet calloused hands come to rest on her hips from behind. A gentle kiss is placed where her neck meets her shoulder, followed by a deep mumble — “God, this dress is gorgeous..”
Her heart felt calmed by his touch, mind soothed by his voice, the crippling worry beginning to fade. A smile lifts to {{user}}’s lips as she leans into his touch. “Why’re y’being so-”
Her head turned.
Her face fell.
Thats why he’s being more clingy than usual — so she wouldn’t get mad when she inevitably saw his blood littered face, bruises already beginning to form on both cheekbones, too many cuts to count in just one glance across his skin.
He swallowed hard as he watched her eyes scan his face while pulling away, adams apple bouncing in his throat.
Wordlessly, she grabbed his hand with a steel grip, careful not to press against his bloodied knuckles as she drags him to their bathroom before pushing his hand away with more force than necessary, pulling open the cupboard where she keeps the large stash of treatments.